I Will See Africa

January 29, 1965 – Arcola, Saskatchewan

My fascination with Africa began during a Saskatchewan blizzard.

In the dead of winter of 1965 my father took my brother and me to The Mac Theatre in Arcola to see the epic film Zulu.  The opening scenes depicted a vast African plain stretching to distant mountains, a stark contrast to the snowstorm raging outside the theatre.

In the movie, legions of Zulu warriors, wearing ostrich plume headdresses and leopard skin tunics, attack a battalion of British soldiers, with cowhide shields and short spears.

I can still hear the war chant of the Zulu, and the crisp military commands of British officers as they battled to the death on the African plains.

I don’t know why Dad decided to take us to Zulu, but the picture forged a lasting impression on me.  I have yearned for Africa ever since.

What really sealed the deal for me was a scene in the movie where hundreds of Zulu maidens performed a mass bridal dance. At ten-years-old, I had never seen bare breasts before.  The girls in Arcola mostly wore parkas.   

As I stepped back out into the winter storm after the movie, I made a decision;

“Some day, …

… I will see Africa”.

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Where We Were Meant to Go

January 29, 2023 – Millarville, Alberta

“Where a man feels at home, outside of where he’s born, is where he’s meant to go.” – Ernest Hemingway

Pretoria and Arcola being at opposite ends of the earth was sufficient impediment for me to expect that it might be a long time before I experienced the green hills of Africa, the tribal warriors, or the exotic Zulu women, but the dream persisted.  Almost sixty years have transpired since then, and my fascination with Africa never faltered.

In the intervening years I read countless historical accounts and novels based in South Africa, The Covenant, The Power of One, and the The Great Karoo among them. I watched African movies, like Nelson Mandela’s Long Walk to Freedom, Out of Africa, and Hotel Rwanda, all of which kept my fascination for the continent simmering.  

Along the way, I discovered that a man with the same last name as mine had written the consequential apartheid-era novel Cry, The Beloved Country.  I read the book and watched the movie, and decided it was time I got serious about making a trek to Africa.

Bear and I booked tickets, packed our bags, and were about to embark on a march to Pretoria.  Then Covid hit.  We unpacked the suitcases and hunkered down for another two years.  

During lock-down, Africa seemed even further from my grasp than it had in Arcola. While we were incarcerated, I kept reading and researching.

It has been a long walk to freedom, but now that we are able to travel again, I am ready to unleash sixty-years-plus-two of pent-up Africa.  

Bear and I hope that you will travel along with us.  

Africa is …

 … where we were meant to go.

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Next post, January 30, 10:00 AM